At dawn, the warm-hued sunlight struck the milky-white ice wall, scattering ten thousand brilliant rays like colorful swords between earth and sky.
Today, five wooden stakes had been erected in the courtyard before Castle Black. Tied to them with hemp rope were five corpses: two maimed Others with severed limbs; two wights whose bodies were intact; and one flayed boar-wight.
Daenerys, Stannis, the Red Woman, and more than a thousand others stood around the yard, their eyes locked on the bound Others.
As the sun rose, shadows cast by Castle Black's wooden buildings shrank bit by bit. Sunshine spilled across the courtyard and, little by little, bathed the Others and the wights in golden warmth.
Hssssss— Wherever the light touched, the Others' silvery hair floated as though aflame, sizzling like squid on a hot iron plate. White mist, like rising steam, billowed around their bodies.
Ah-urgh! An Other screamed, the cry of shattering ice, filled with agony and rage.
Daenerys' pupils tightened. Unconsciously she stepped closer, staring directly into the cold, malicious star-blue eyes of the Other.
Deep within its mind she could not discern the runes of contemplation; gazing upon its magic was like looking into an ice-blue sea of flame, a frozen inferno. Yet now, under the sun, that blue fire in its eyes rapidly dimmed, its magic melting like snow beneath the sun.
Crack, crack. The phantom ice-armor fused to the Other's torso flared dazzling white, struggling to reflect the sunlight, but cracks began to spread all the same.
If even an Other howled beneath the sun, the fate of the wights was worse still.
Amid swirling vapor, the writhing wights melted visibly, like candles under a magnifying glass. Milky fat dripped from their calves and soaked into the soil, carrying a stench of rot.
A corpse stops decaying the instant it becomes a wight, so fresh wights barely smell. After the original corpse-odor fades, they are scentless—like ice itself. Yet now, bathed in sunlight, they had begun to rot anew.
"Ugh. Someone drag that wight to the ice-cellar," Daenerys said, pinching her nose and pointing to one of them.
Though the two men and one boar-wight still thrashed, their faces had melted to unrecognizable lumps. Four black brothers approached with bundles of straw matting. They hacked the ropes, wrapped the wight round and round, hoisted it, and hurried toward the ice vault beneath the wall.
Castle Black had no curtain wall, but its undercroft was a warren of tunnels linking every tower, with many side chambers. Near the Wall lay the ice-cellars for stores—useful when winter snows buried the castle beneath five, even eight, meters of drift and only the tunnels allowed passage.
Within an hour—well before noon—the human wights had vanished, dissolved into foul, reeking slurry that soaked the courtyard mud.
The boar-wight was peculiar: its pelt shaved clean, its belly slit, entrails removed. Daenerys could almost picture it: wildlings bagged a great boar, eagerly scraped hair, gutted and washed it, rubbed it with coarse black salt, kindled a fire, mouths watering as they prepared to roast it whole. Then an Other arrived, raised the dead—and the boar opened eerie blue eyes to meet the drooling wildlings stuffing apples, turnips, and strawberries into its belly. Want to eat me? Eat you first!
A real-life "duck cooked and flown away."
"Sigh. Night's Watch, do you cure entire hams, sides of beef?" Daenerys asked, watching the boar melt into milky foulness. "Maester Aemon, write every Northern lord at once: from now on, salt-meat must be cut in small pieces. If your own bacon eats you, that's too ridiculous—ha ha!"
She ended in laughter.
"Seven hells—our cellars are hung with hams. What if they break loose?" Grenn cried, face blanching.
"Ha-ha-ha!" The image was too comical; Daenerys laughed harder.
"Severed hands and feet of wights really do move," Jon said, grimacing.
"Whole sides of salt-meat truly are a risk," Melisandre added coolly. "Better smoke the flesh. A half-cooked corpse roasted over fire will never rise again."
"You conversed with the Others?" Daenerys asked, surprised.
"I tried yesterday—no use. Wights and Others alike fight without fear," the Red Woman replied.
"Even this sun-scorching torture won't break them? Look at their misery; they must be in agony," said Ser Melis.
"Otter Witch," Daenerys called to an old crone among the Thenns, "please come ask this White Walker whether he'd prefer a dignified… cooperation. Don't say 'surrender.' I merely wish this Other-ser to help with a few small tasks."
Several Black Brothers winced, muttering inwardly: "Other-ser"? Next she'll draft a "three-party lease" with the dead. Fooling gullible wildlings was one thing—now she's trying to cheat the Others?
Called "Otter Mother," Larra was no true skinchanger, but her clan's line of witches bore an unbroken heritage. Though Thenn seers lacked magic, they knew the Old Tongue, strange herb-lore, and secrets from the green seers of ancient days.
The reason Dany suspected the Hill Tribes once had a greenseer was because Mother Otter possessed a bronze book related to the greenseers. Crafted from thin sheets of bronze, it weighed over two pounds and was about the size of a ten-inch tablet. It had fewer than fifty pages, was entirely free of rust, and densely engraved with words and images.
Mother Otter recited some of the contents of the bronze book. Most of the descriptions were highly mystical—utterly incomprehensible to ordinary people, like reading a heavenly script. But Dany understood. It was describing the sensations of a greenseer entering the weirwood to observe the world.
Mm, the bronze book had been borrowed by the Dragon Queen. She intended to use it to study the Old Tongue.
A quarter of an hour later, the barefoot old witch turned to Dany and said, "Dragon Queen, it won't respond to me."
She didn't need to say it—Dany and the others had been watching. The old woman had muttered incantations for quite a while, but the White Walker hadn't so much as twitched.
"Enough," Dany said, pointing at a White Walker whose icy armor had completely shattered, revealing a pale white chest. "Take this one back to the ice cave."
The remaining White Walker lasted under the sun until around three in the afternoon before its body began to melt. Either it didn't melt at all, or once it started, it melted faster than a wight. In just a few breaths, it had turned into a puddle of icy water, releasing white mist.
There was no stench of decay—on the contrary, the scent was uniquely cool and faintly fragrant. The smell was so subtle that only a few with keen noses could detect it.
"Dragon Queen, the wight we put in this morning is dead. It's just a chunk of ice now," a Night's Watch brother came to report.
"Leave it in for a few more days. Maybe it'll slowly come back to life in the ice," Dany said uncertainly.
"What about the White Walker?" she asked again.
[Note inserted in the original text, skipped here as irrelevant to the narrative.]
"It's alive."
Dany looked around. By now, most of the Night's Watch and wildlings who had gathered in the courtyard had dispersed. But outside Castle Black, the noise was tremendous—thousands of wildlings, under the supervision of the Night's Watch and giants, were helping build the outer wall.
"Care to test your Lightbringer?" Dany asked as she walked up to stand across from Stannis.
The stag, like her, had stayed in the courtyard, observing the sun's effect on the White Walkers.
No sooner had Dany made the suggestion than the knights and lords nearby, previously bored, suddenly perked up, all looking at the stag with eager anticipation.
Stannis remained expressionless and silent, only glancing sideways at Melisandre.
The red-robed woman didn't hesitate at all. Calmly, she said, "We can try. I, too, would like to see what Azor Ahai's weapon can do against a White Walker."
Dany looked thoughtful. Whether or not the sword was genuine, at least the red priestess hadn't deliberately deceived the stag—she clearly believed she had given him the true Lightbringer.
"Bring over the White Walker from the crypt—the one that hasn't been exposed to sunlight. Oh, and the ice sword and the wight too—for comparison."
After the Night's Watch left to follow her orders, Dany turned curiously to the red priestess. "Where did you find Lightbringer?"
Melisandre glanced at the longsword in the black sharkskin scabbard at the stag's waist, her expression complicated. "If we foresaw the Long Night thousands of years ago, do you think we wouldn't have prepared weapons to face the White Walkers? That sword was enshrined at the ancestral altar in a kingdom descended from Hyal Qorynn in the East, waiting for the next savior to appear."
"Can I take a look at it?" Dany asked.
The stag cast her a cool glance and remained unmoved.
"Hmph, that sword can only be wielded by the prophesied one. Ordinary people can't even get near it," said Ser Godry Farring, the "Giant Slayer."
"I'm just curious about the material. Compared to Valyrian steel, which is stronger?"
Dany drew Clear Sky from her waist. The smoky-black blade gleamed faintly cold in the sunlight.
"How about this—we cross blades and see whose sword is tougher?" she said with a grin.
Just then, seven or eight Night's Watch brothers came over, carrying the White Walker.
"Your Grace, should we tie it to the post?" one asked.
Dany regretfully sheathed her sword, glanced up at the sky, and said, "Move it westward, tie it in the shade."
"Tod, Sam, Edd, Owen," she instructed, as they placed the ice sword—wrapped in leather—into the shadow. Grenn, excited, waved toward his friends who were busy building the wall in the distance and shouted,
"King Stannis is going to test his sword! The legendary weapon of Azor Ahai—the one forged by sacrificing his wife—Lightbringer! Lightbringer vs. White Walker, everyone come watch!"
The stag's face darkened instantly.
"Wow! Azor Ahai battling a White Walker!" Toad dropped a large stone and shouted excitedly.
"What? Stannis is going to duel a White Walker—just like the Dragon Queen did the other day?" a nearby wildling exclaimed.
In moments, the courtyard was packed again—even the giants came over, carrying wildlings on their shoulders.
Stannis gripped the sword hilt and clenched his teeth in silence.
(End of chapter)
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